Arthur Sullivan: A Victorian Musician (Oxford Paperbacks) [Paperback]

There are some things in my cultural life that I cannot abide: pantomime, too many Strauss waltzes, and Gilbert & Sullivan operettas among them. So why am I reading a biography of Arthur Sullivan? Well, because there is more to Arthur Sullivan than his works with William Gilbert. And the subtitle - `A Victorian Musician' - adds an interesting social and cultural dimension to the story. Besides, I ended this biography with a slightly higher appreciation of those damned operettas! Having said that, readers of this review will I hope forgive me if I refrain from commenting on the G&S relationship, which fans will be delighted to hear takes up a substantial part of the book.

This is a review of the 1986 paperback edition. There are thirty-six densely-printed chapters but, alas, no plates. In his preface, Arthur Jacobs writes how letters and diaries previously in private possession were now accessible, which means that the previous `official' biography could be critically reviewed: "Labouring to produce an acceptably `clean' image of their subject," the authors "suppressed references not only to sex but even to gambling." Jacobs provides extensive extracts from his diaries and correspondence including his codes for activities he would rather keep very private.

The first chapter paints a vivid picture of the radical changes London experienced throughout Sullivan's life, living as he did wholly within the span of Victoria's reign. With Irish-Italian roots, and the son of a musician, he was surrounded by music as a child and managed to enter the Chapel Royal at the age of twelve. Two years later, he won the first ever Mendelssohn scholarship to the Royal Academy of Music. He then went on to Leipzig to continue his studies. No wonder, in the 1860s and 1870s, he was seen as the great hope of English music.

From such auspicious beginnings did Sullivan progress - but only up to a point. Many have viewed his subsequent concentration on the writing of songs and operettas as a waste of talent. At the age of twenty-four he turned his back on the writing of symphonies and concertos. Jacobs postulates that, "It is as if he were conscious of a lack of sustaining-power, or more specifically of the power of thematic development in the German tradition." Jacobs quotes an 1878 review in `The Figaro' which stated that Sullivan " `has all the ability to make him a great composer, but he wilfully throws his opportunity away. A giant may play at times, but Mr Sullivan is always playing'."

More to the point, Jacobs hints that it was in Sullivan's own character to fail to meet up to great expectations: he points out how Sullivan was barely touched by general questions in the arts and literature, in science or philosophy. He stood aside from politics too." Later in the book, Jacobs concludes that, "His circle was wide and indeed cosmopolitan, but his intellectual curiosity very limited. Even in his own art his outlook was conservative and he was given neither to experiment nor speculation."

By 1885, Sullivan was at the height of his fame, "reigning equally at the Savoy and [conducting] at the Philharmonic concerts. But much time was wasted at the races, at the casino, and on other social pleasures. Sullivan comes over as lazy, taking an age to compose, often leaving matters to the very last minute of deadlines.

The final chapter addresses his legacy, but his serious work quickly became ancient history as a new generation of English composers fully realised their potential in the serious classical music scene. Sullivan's posthumous `Te Deum' was heard once, published, and then promptly forgotten.

There are twenty pages of notes and an index. There are four appendices: a family tree; a note on Sullivan's supposed Jewish connections; over ten pages listing his works; and ten pages of bibliography. All of these clearly show the breadth and depth of Jacob's task. He has succeeded in providing a first-rate biography of `a Victorian musician'.